How Do You Rate The Morning Sun
by Soncnica
Summary: After a long and sleepless night


**Umm… did I just…maybe…kind of… in a way… possibly… sort of hurt Sam**** in this fic! I'm surprised myself! And I'm still in the hands of the writers block and it shows here too. But enough about that...  
**

**I own nothing and the title and the summary belong to Robbie Williams' song called Morning Sun. I was listening to it today while washing the dishes and yeah… this happened.**

**Enjoy**

**

* * *

**

When has it ever been easy!

The answer is never… it has never been easy.

_::_

"Run, Sam... go!"

Dean was running behind his brother, pressing his palm between Sam's shoulder blades, feeling the bones expanding and clashing together with every step Sam made.

Sam stumbled, caught himself with his right hand, the skin on his palm slicing open on a sharp rock, hit his knee on a protruding tree root and ran like the devil himself was chasing him.

"Sam...run, come on! Run! Go, go, go!"

Sam could feel Dean's hand pressing on his back, pushing him forward, making him stumble, making him push himself to his limits… deeper into the dark forest, further away from the thing that they needed to kill, but was trying to kill them first.

-:-

Never easy. Never simple. It was never uncomplicated.

_::_

"Okay, okay, think we lost it."

Dean was breathing hard, mouth open to get in some more of the much needed air. Bended at his waist, forearms on his shaking knees, shotgun held securely in his right hand, with Sam leaning on the nearby tree, making sounds like he was trying to swallow down the air, not just breathe it in.

The night was cold; little white puffs of air were visible whenever Dean breathed out.

But he was hot... sweat running down his spine, down his ribs, down his face, into his eyes, down his nose, even down his legs, pooling somewhere in his socks or boots.

His palm was sweaty, but he held on to the shotgun, not letting it slip away.

"Now what?"

Sam's voice was a hard whisper over the deep breaths.

Dean looked up from the ground, loosing interest in the brown, decaying leaves there and shifted his eyes to his left to see Sam hunched over too.

"We go after it again."

-:-

But complicated? Hell, yeah. It takes a special brand of talent to make things complicated. Or it doesn't take anything at all.

_::_

"It was behind us..." Sam breathed out, "you go left, I'll go right, maybe we can trap it."

"Good thinking."

They split up. Dean going left, disappearing into the bushes, Sam going right, disappearing among some trees.

-:-

Seriously... something being easy was never gonna happen.

_::_

Sam stopped in front of a tree blocking his way forward. Breathed in. Frowned. Thought things over. Opened his eyes wide when realization hit his brain. _This is gonna hurt._ Turned around and got clawed down his chest, down his stomach, the sharp, thin claws barely missing the delicate skin of his neck.

He screamed but knew that the wind took his 'Dean!' into a different direction then Dean was at. There will be no help. There will only be death.

In the fading light of the moon, the black dog's mouth looked as if it was smiling down at him. A wicked smile that said '_I'm gonna eat ya up nice and slow, rip the flesh from your bones and chew it up and then go in for more_.'

He slumped down to the wet ground with a groan, his back chipping away bark on the tree trunk. He clutched at his chest, feeling the blood already wetting his jacket.

The pain... there was no pain... there was just coldness that spread up and down his body. Just cold.

There was no heat from the blood flowing from the claw marks, there was no feeling of his body even hitting the ground, there was nothing... nothing but cold. Cold that made his fingers jerk, cold that made his eyes slowly slip shut, cold that made his feet go numb, cold that made him hiss and shiver.

Cold that made him forget that there was something huge and hungry standing right above his head. Growling down at him, moving its paws near his boots, thinking up his next move '_should I go for the neck, should I go for the arm, should I go for the leg? What to do? What to do?' _

-:-

Never easy... always complicated.

That's probably engraved in their blood.

_::_

"Sam?"

Cold.

"Sammy, wake up."

Cold.

"Sam!"

Loud and cold.

"Sam, come on... wake up."

Tapping on his cheek, movement of his arms, a moan through his clenched teeth.

"Sam, you're okay. Come on, help me here."

Pain all over… numbing pain, cold pain, sharp pain, pressure on pressure mixed with more pain…

"Easy, take it easy…"

Cold turning into heat, blood flowing through veins down to his fingers, toes. Up to his head. Heat that's becoming too much, too fast.

"D'n..."

"That's it, come on. Come on, wake up."

The smell of iron in the air. The sound of fire crackling somewhere nearby, heat all over his body, waking up limbs that he forgot he had, another, different kind of pain shooting up and down his chest, stomach, legs, head, back...

Something bloody red, orange and yellow going through the tiny slits of his not quite opened eyes. It burned his eyes... burned them so sweetly.

"Dude, chill. You're okay. Just lay back down and take it easy."

"t'o h't. Hoooth..."

"Hot?"

"Hoooothhh... b'ninghh"

"'s the fire... you're not burning."

-:-

It's never easy to find your brother...clawed up... jacket bloody red, jeans bloody red, shirt bloody red, T-shirt bloody red, skin bloody red... it's never easy to find your brother being food to some thing that should never even exist in the first place. It's never easy to feel the slippery blood on your fingers while you're wrapping your brother up, it's never easy to smell it when you wash your hands in the nearby creek, it's never easy to wait and wait and worry yourself nearly to the edge of throwing up, while waiting for your baby brother to wake up and say something... anything. It's never easy to wash your brother's bloody body with a T-shirt wet with cold water, feeling him shiver… tremble beneath your hand. It's never easy to watch your brother's fingers twitch when you touch where he hurts, it's never easy to hold him down when he jerks awake, pain in his eyes and lines on his face, you never want to see again, it's never easy to whisper 'take it easy' to him… when you know it really isn't easy.

It's never easy... always complicated.

-:-

And as it will always be… complicated or not… the sun will always get up in the morning.

_::_

Dean poked at the fire with a stick, gave it some air. The night was turning into dawn, morning, day… it'll be hot, with the sun the color as it was. Red, orange, yellow. No clouds on the sky.

Quiet of the early morning with only the birds happily chirping away.

He sat on a wooden log, flicked a beetle off of it and watched how Sam's chest rose up and fell back down, watched the white bandages rise up and fall back down… watched how Sam's eyes snapped open from time to time and his brother looked up at the sky, sighed and let them fall shut again.

"'m here, Sam."

He poked at the fire again. Made it breathe.

They were deep in the forest… deeper then deep. Sam needs to rest. Just for a few hours.

-:-

How do you rate the morning sun?

It should be complicated, as things always are, but this... this is easy...

Dean rates it with…

My brother is still breathing, even if it is shallow, even if he winces every time he pulls in a breath.

My brother's heart is still beating, even if it is too fast.

My brother's skin is still warm, not hot, just warm.

My brother's eyes still open up and look at me, recognizing me.

My brother is still alive when that orb of blood red heat shows up from the horizon.

My brother is still here.

That's how Dean rates the morning sun.

* * *

**The End. **


End file.
